


Last Ride Home

by seductivembrace



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-NFA.  Leave it to Spike to get them lost in a car, at least that’s what Buffy thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Ride Home

Buffy was tired and the long car ride she’d been subjected to was starting to wear on her nerves. The last time Spike had pulled over had been hours ago – a quick pit stop to fill up the gas tank before they’d shoved off… back into the wild blue yonder. Her stomach rumbled and she tried to remember the last thing she’d eaten. 

An apple and a bottle of water, bought at said gas station. No _wonder_ she was hungry.  

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” 

“We’re not lost, Slayer. Bloody well sit back and ride, why don’t you?” Spike groused.   

“We’re lost,” Buffy mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and staring out the windows.   

Trees whizzed by, making her dizzy, until she was forced to either close her eyes, or face forward again; she chose to close her eyes. It contributed to the whole put-upon image she had going for her. She heard Spike sigh heavily in response to her comment and thought in that instant that he sounded just like Angel – though she’d never in a million years voice the thought aloud. Five _hundred_ million, maybe. 

For one thing, the mere mention of her ex was enough to bring on a snit worthy of what she could only hope to project as she sat there in the passenger seat of the Camaro, and it would take hours – hours that could be otherwise spent in a horizontal position, of sorts – before she would be able to tempt him out of his funk. Also, Spike never liked to hear how alike he and Angel were… no matter that it was true – at least as far as their mannerisms were concerned. 

It had been a year since either of them had spoken with Angel. He was currently living in stiflingly hot New Mexico with his wife, Sarah, and their two-point-five kids, cozy as two bugs in a rug in their cute ranch house… right down to the white picket fence. Angel was nothing if not cliché. But she didn’t begrudge him his happiness; he’d earned it after willingly signing away any chance of his Shanshu, right before he’d taken on the Black Thorn and won. Apparently, it was his selfless sacrifice of his ultimate goal that had been at the heart of the prophecy. 

So, Angel was now human, living out his days in wedded bliss. She… well, she was where she’d finally realized she always wanted to be. 

In the arms of her vampire. 

Five years had passed since that fateful night where Spike, Angel, Blue – as Spike affectionately called her – and Gunn had taken on the Senior Partner’s demon goons. Buffy could still recall the surprised look on Spike’s face when she’d punched and hacked her way to his side, a handful of slayers fanned out behind her. Bruised and battered and on the brink of going under, he’d taken one look at her, and it was like he’d been injected with a concentrated dose of Slayer blood. 

With a battle cry that had caused shivers to run down her own back, not to mention the demons that had been in close proximity to the vamp, Spike had torn into the unending masses with renewed vigor. All four of them had – Spike, Angel, Blue, and Gunn. As if they’d sensed that they weren’t slated to die in that alley that night. 

Buffy had quickly dispersed her slayers and had taken it upon herself to act as the human’s shield, while still seeing to the demons that came her way. 

It had taken damn near all night but they had been triumphant in the end. They’d collapsed together right there in the alley, amidst severed arms, limbs, and other demon body parts, exhaustion pouring off them in waves.  

Until Gunn had coughed. 

The ragged sound had galvanized them into action. 

Buffy had sent the slayers back to the hotel and she, Spike, Angel, and Blue had rushed Gunn to the hospital, getting him there just in the nick of time. He’d come through the emergency surgery with flying colors. In fact, she and Spike had received a letter from him last week. Apparently he and Blue were touring Russia now. Gunn had taken it upon himself to “baby-sit the Ancient,” as he liked to call it, telling them that Wesley would have wanted it. 

Blue had transferred her pet fetishes from Spike to the human – which was a good thing or she and Blue would have come to blows. No one messed with her vampire.

It was an unlikely pairing, but the two seemed to mesh. If nothing else, the thought of Wesley, and their shared pain at his death, kept them together. 

The slowing of the car brought Buffy out of her silent musings, and she looked up to see more of the same. Trees… and lots of them. Same thing she’d been staring at for the last two hours. 

“Doesn’t look like the beach to me,” she grumbled, trying to hide a grin at the exasperation clearly evident on Spike’s face. 

“Doesn’t look like the beach to me,” he falsettoed. “You know, Slayer… what you lack is faith.” 

Buffy snorted. 

“Is it a male thing that you can’t just _ask_ for directions?” 

Spike rolled his eyes. 

“Now you see why I don’t take you anywhere? Can’t keep your trap shut long enough for me to get where we’re going.” 

“Well… if you’d told me where you were taking me, I could probably help.” 

She pulled a map out of the compartment in the door and dangled it in front of him. 

“It’s a surprise. And I don’t need a bloody map,” he growled back, snatching the thing out of her hands and chucking it onto the back seat. 

“A surprise?” Buffy scoffed. “Being stranded in the middle of some godforsaken forest is a surprise?” 

“See what I mean?” 

“What?” 

“Your mouth, pet. That’s what. Why can’t you jus’ sit back and let me get us there? I swear… you’re a worse nag than the bloody Pouf’s wife.” 

“Did you just call me a ‘nag’?” 

“If the shoe fits…” 

Spike cocked a brow and waited for the explosion; he loved baiting the Slayer. And, god, she didn’t disappoint. Though, he thought she may have caught on to his game of “Antagonize the Slayer”.  

But they had an eternity together, and their half-hearted bickering kept the spark in their relationship – not to mention he got hard at seeing her eyes blaze with anger, mock or not.   

Apparently, the reason his chip hadn’t worked with the Slayer when she’d come back was thanks to the ever-loving PTBs. Her genetic makeup had been slightly altered to allow for her immortality, and the piece of metal that had been embedded in his brain at the time hadn’t recognized her as human any longer.

It had been a startling revelation when the two had found out, though the Slayer not having aged the slightest in the last several years, not even a frown line, had been an indicator. Their suspicions had been confirmed by the appearance of a tiny demon.

Whistler, the Slayer had called him. Though the way she’d growled out the name, Spike had had the little man by the throat and ready to part his head from his body before she’d gotten out that he was one of the good guys. Spike had reluctantly let him go, pouting at being denied a bit of sport.

Once the PTB’s guy had finished his explanation, Spike had thought he _would_ get a chance to have some fun; the expression on his girl’s face was a clear indication of her upset.   

He couldn’t blame her, having been manipulated too much by the men upstairs over the years for his liking. 

Unfortunately, the demon had disappeared not long after the telling. 

The shock had eventually worn off and the two had sported matching grins for at least a week. He’d even been the one to tell Rupert. Although the man’s reaction had been a disappointment. Even the veiled hint of spending the rest of his unlife boinking his slayer had barely garnered a raised brow. 

Guess the old chap really had meant it when he’d said he was glad the two had found each other, and that he was happy they were a couple. Happy! 

Dying to save the world must have gone a long way towards erasing the past as far as Giles was concerned, at least that’s what Spike figured was the reason for the man’s changed stance. Then there’d been the fact that Angel wasn’t truly evil and had been secretly using his position as the head of Evil, Inc. to stick it to the Senior Partners. 

The Slayer’s increasingly louder tirade brought him back to the present. And his surprise. 

She was getting on a roll, and Spike figured he’d better stop her before she really got mad. 

“We’re here, pet,” he told her. 

Buffy broke off mid-tirade and stared at Spike. 

“Here? You brought me to the middle of some forest?” she asked, incredulous. “When I agreed to a secret getaway, I was under the impression that we’d be going to… oh, I don’t know… something nice.” Her eyes took in the scene before her, as if she might have overlooked something… like a five star hotel lurking amongst the trees that stood as far as the eye could see in any direction. And she told him so. “I don’t see anything but trees.  Lots and _lots_ of trees. I did happen to mention that I hate camping, right? Tents and me are non-mixy. Ask Dawn.” 

“Seein’ as how the Bit’s on the other side of the planet, _and_ I don’t have a phone, don’t see how that’s possible. Besides, we’re not _goin_ ’ camping.” His brows drew together and he gifted the Slayer with one of his are-you-off-your-gourd looks. “An’ do you really think that _I_ would take you camping?” 

“So why are we here? Why are we stopping?” 

“Because, you need to put this on.” Spike held up the black silk handkerchief. “And no cheating either. I want it on good an’ tight.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes and snagged the scrap of cloth out of his hand. She quickly tied it around the back of her head, her movements jerky in her pique. 

“All set?” Spike asked. 

Buffy’s cocked head said it all. 

Spike put the car back in gear and turned into the drive that had been hidden from sight, thanks to the surrounding tree cover. He was grateful the Slayer didn’t have his exceptional hearing, or she would have known that they were indeed rather close to the beach – although they were several hundred feet above sea level. 

Barely a handful of minutes later, the tiny dirt road opened up into a huge clearing and he pulled the car to a stop outside the cabin situated close, but not too close, to the ledge. A light was on in the living room, so they weren’t swallowed up in complete darkness once he killed the engine and turned off the headlights. 

“Wait there,” he told her and got out of the car to hurry around and open her door. 

Spike helped her out then picked her up in his arms. He bumped the door shut with his hips before striding purposefully towards the front porch. 

“You can pull off the blindfold now, luv,” he told her once he navigated the few steps onto the porch. She did, and Spike heard her gasp as she got a good look at the house in front of them. “Welcome home, Buffy.” 

“Home?” she whispered. 

Spike nodded. “Been savin’ my dosh since I started workin’ for Angel. Pays to know the boss,” he added at seeing her wide-eyed expression. 

He jostled her a bit so he could wrap his hand around the door knob. It turned easily and Spike stepped across the threshold, the Slayer still held in his arms. 

“Put me down,” Buffy whispered, eager to see the place. Their home. It brought tears to her eyes just thinking about it. A place of their very own. 

Spike misread the Slayer’s mood, and was quick to add, “We don’t have to stay here all the time.” 

“Why not?” Buffy asked, her brows drawing together. 

“Well, only if you want to. I know it’s far away from the Niblet and your friends…” And Angel, he didn’t add. Not that he doubted his love for her, but they’d never been so far away from his sire and his ever-growing family for an extended period of time since that fateful night in LA.  

Buffy stopped her exploring to look at Spike. She could easily read his fear, though he struggled to hide it. It was a big step for them, true. A place of their very own was something they’d never had… if you discounted the numerous hotels and motels they’d stayed in the last several years. 

She walked back to him and slipped her arms around his back, smiling into his chest when he wrapped his arms around her. They stood there like that, neither of them moving for the space of several minutes. 

Finally, she lifted her head, not surprised to see him staring down at her. 

“It’s perfect, from what little I’ve seen. Show me the rest?” 

Spike nodded shyly and took her hand, leading her from room to room, saving their bedroom for last.   

The cabin was fairly large, easily able to accommodate friends and family that would no doubt show up throughout the years. It wasn’t completely furnished, though she couldn’t help but chuckle at the huge king-sized bed that dominated the master bedroom. 

“Think we’ll get lost in there?” Amusement tinged her voice. 

“I’ll always find you, pet.” 

“Yes, you will, won’t you?” She wasn’t talking about the bed. 

Neither was he, when Spike nodded, his look solemn. It was gone in a flash, a smirk once more gracing his lips.   

“Then again, I doubt I’ll ever let you outta the house to _get_ lost.” 

“You won’t, huh?” Her tone sounded doubtful. 

“Uh uh.” 

Buffy turned around and looked at the bed. 

“So… wanna break in the bed?” she asked. 

She squealed as Spike eagerly swept her up into his arms. 

“Thought you’d never ask, luv.”


End file.
